Return of The Hunger Games: Colors of Death
by Saeloun
Summary: Sixty years after the end The Hunger Games, the world's Mockingjay passes. But, as Panem tries to cope with the news, the new President gives them something else to face, something they could never anticipate; the return of The Games, but with a twist. "Oh, I almost forgot. May the odds be...ever in your favor." SYOT-now closed. Rating in consideration to change. Daily updates!
1. 1: Gail Maxwell

So, you all recognize this one, right?

Right! It's Gail :D But, I'm missing Acer's chapter, and sadly cannot remember the submitter for that incredible character. So, if you're Acer's owner, PM me? I need him! Until then, he'll kind of be like a MIA man :(

-Okki

***Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games, or anything affiliated with it. It all belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. **

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"Gail, who is she?"

Gail Maxwell had been so enraptured by the events unfurling following the passing of Katniss Everdeen that she hadn't even heard her little brother enter the room.

"Adam, what are you doing up?" She motioned him to come over to her with her hands, to which he obliged, rushing across the floor and slamming into her, arms like little boa constrictors around her waist. Her breath rushed out of her from the force of the impact, but she recovered quickly, laughing as she tousled his dirty blonde locks.

"I'll ask you again; what are you doing up? You have school in the morning."

Instead of saying anything, the little boy only snuggled his nose against her stomach, a happy sigh coming from him once he was comfortable. Gail could only roll her eyes and smile while she continued her diligent threading of her slender fingers through his hair, which seemed to be relaxing him even more.

_He'll be asleep, alright. Just not in his bed, _she thought with a soft chuckle.

"Gail?"

Her head jerked up as her father's strained voice broke through the quiet her and Adam had themselves wrapped in. Frown lines creased his forehead and he pinched the bridge of his nose, due to what Gail could only presume to be a migraine coming on.

"Adam, go back to your room," his words and voice were final, brooked no room for refusal.

"But, dad—,"

"_Now_, Adam."

Adam looked up at Gail one last time, cerulean eyes pleading with her to make their father let him stay. He didn't get his wish though.

"Go on, Adam, you need to get to sleep," she whispered before pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head and turning him around in the direction of his room. He ambled off in that direction, but not without glancing back at his sister. She only waved her fingers at him before turning her full attention on their father, who waited until he heard the close of his little boy's bedroom door to say anything to her.

"I suppose you've already heard about Katniss," it wasn't a question. Gail was certain there was no one who hadn't heard of the death of the Mockingjay, or what events were tailing close on its heels.

"I'm going to start training early in the morning."

Her dad merely sighed, an unsteady sound, and closed his eyes tight, almost refusing to show any emotion.

"Dad," she began, hoping he would open his eyes. To her dismay, they stayed sealed shut. "Dad, please look at me."

The older man slowly revealed his eyes, looking down at his daughter's pleading face.

Gail could see the turmoil in them, the complete heartbreak of his little girl leaving him to train for something they were sure would never come back. She wrapped her arms around his torso, latching her hands behind his back and burying her face against him.

"Don't worry, dad. I'm strong," she tried to be reassuring, but even she couldn't help but hear the quaver her voice had adopted.

"As if I don't know that," he grimaced and rested his chin on top of her sleek blonde head, holding her tight around her shoulders. "I'm just not ready to see my little girl grow up, and here you are going to go train for…for the…," his words were lost in the tears he could not stop, even if he tried.

Gail felt him shaking against her, but didn't know what to do other than to tighten her hold on him as much as possible.

"Don't cry," she whispered, fighting tears back as she spoke. She could not, _would not_ show herself to be weak whenever her family needed to see she was strong enough to handle this, strong enough to come back home to them. She was from District One! They were the strongest of the Districts. The only competition she presumed to have is whoever her District partner ended up being. But then her thoughts swayed, thinking over all of the stories she had been told since she was little. Every Hunger Games only had one victor, until the 74th, the Games where Katniss came out as victor, with her District partner close behind her (hand in hand, she recalled hearing). And the only way her partner made it out with her was because they attempted some wild suicide act in defiance of the Capitol, which spurred the whole rebellion mess she was born during, but had brought the Games to a halting stop. But since there was no Mockingjay to hold those back any longer, the President decided it would be best to honor her by announcing the grand return of the Hunger Games.

"Maybe District One will bring home two victors," her words came out almost like a question, so she made sure her next statement was strong. "We could be the next Katniss and Peeta."

"I hope with everything in me that you all are."

Gail lifted her shining eyes towards her father's watery ones. He looked so much older in the dim light of their parlor, so much more wizened. She didn't like it.

"Bring a final stop to this hell," he poked her nose with his pinky and bent his knees until he was eye level with her, which forced them to have to release one another, whispering in her ear, "Take that woman down."

"It would be great if I could ally with him. The thought of killing someone…" she trailed off, her thoughts going unbidden to Adam. While there obviously would be no five year old competing (she hoped! This President seemed to get a thrill from making everything so sick and twisted.), there would still be little kids only twelve years old, and in danger of losing their lives' before they even get the chance to begin!

"Listen to you, Gail! You're talking as though you've already been selected! It could very well be someone other than you. Everyone from age twelve to eighteen is having their name submitted twelve times."

That caught her attention.

"Twelve times?" she practically shouted.

Her father held a finger to her lips to silence her, nodding and listening for any sound that they may have woken her mother or brother. The rest of the house was quiet except for the bated breath coming from Gail.

"Why twelve?"

"It's her sick way of a memorial for Katniss. The way she sees it, since Katniss came from District Twelve, then every potential Tribute _deserves _to have their name entered that many times."

"What about the Districts who are offered Tesserae?"

"That doesn't exist anymore. Since President Snow was generous enough, as the Capitol states, to hold that offer out, but was in the end killed by one who had applied for it to help her family, the new President thought it just to eliminate it."

Gail sneered as she thought of what kind of human being this President was showing herself to be.

_Obviously not a remorseful one…_

"Why do you want to train for the Games?"

The complete 360 turn of the conversation took her by surprise. She looked back at him, wide eyed, only to be met with gray eyes like stones, hard and determined.

"Well," she tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat and concentrate on breathing. "It's just…a…it is for precautionary measures!" she finally managed to spiel, biting down on her lip as she rethought what she had just said.

"Precautionary measures, huh? Gail you know as well as I that if it came down to it, you couldn't harm a hair on someone's head."

"I could if it would get me home!" she defended herself, thoroughly agitated with the way her father was viewing her at the moment. "Or if it would mean a better life for Adam."

"What better life? Is there something wrong with how we're living now?" he challenged her.

Gail shook her head once, quickly.

"No, there isn't. But what would his life be like if he could tell everyone his older sister came back as the victor of the Hunger Games that had been a thing of the past for sixty long years? Or better yet," she paused, inhaling deeply. "What if we could be the next Katniss and Peeta, whoever the male Tribute is and I? Then you and mom could enjoy Adam's childhood and never fear him being picked to fight in those Games, because he and I would bring them to an end."

"Who says he wouldn't turn on you in the end?" Her father was certainly relentless.

"I'd back myself up with another ally, someone else from another District! It doesn't have to be from my own, does it?"

"Gail, if you even came close to finding someone with enough heart, or sense, in there to spare you and agree to partner up with you, who's to say they'll pull that surprise ending of two victors, when they probably won't be willing to go down that road ever again? What makes you think that if you attempted something like Katniss and Peeta, the Gamemakers' wouldn't just sit there and let you do it?" His voice had steadily begun to rise during his tirade until he was full out yelling at her.

"We've never been afraid of the Games! You and mom seemed so careless, even about the topic of if they returned! Why are you acting like this now?"

"Gail?"

The hushed voice stopped them both. Gail lifted up on her toes to peer over her father's shoulder at the same time he turned his upper body around to see behind him.

"Dad?" Adam poked his mussed head around the edge of his door, which was barely opened in the first place, granting them the sight of only his wide, frightened eyes.

"Everything's okay, Adam, go back to sleep," Gail spoke to him reassuringly while stepping around her father and walking over to his door, patting down his hair and pulling it closed. She then turned back to her father, who looked completely spent.

"I'm going to the Academy to train first thing in the morning," she started to make her way down the hall to her own room, but not before her father said one last thing to her.

"You don't have a weapon."

Gail sighed, closing her tired, blue eyes.

"I'll find something."

With that, she took the final steps to her room, sauntered in, and shut the door forcefully, wedging her desk chair under the handle so no one would barge in and disturb her.

"I'll show you, dad. I'll show you how strong I am. I won't let Adam grow up and face this as his future."

She reached up and flipped the little oval switch on her wall, blanketing herself and her room in the coolness of the dark.


	2. 2: The Reaping of Beth and Nick

***Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games, or anything affiliated with it. It all belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.**

**P.S. **Ahhh...I know your screen name, I really do, but it won't come to any functioning part of my brain. But thank you for these two! They're such deep characters, and I already love the bond between them. I look forward to where they can be taken :)

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The bright morning sun glinted off of the Capitol woman's dyed blue skin, her frizzed, pink corkscrew curls bouncing around as she pranced around the stage set up in the middle of the town, giggling and adjusting her far too low-cut red dress shirt. She glanced down a few times at the gathering crowd, flashing an overly whitened smile which revealed sharpened canine teeth.

"Hm, blue skin. That's a new one."

"Yeah, kind of seems like their pretty fond of that color."

Beth Shocker unconsciously ran her index finger under the mechanic eye that the Capitol had provided her with after the loss of her right one in the earthquake that killed her and her older brother, Nicholas's, father five years ago. Things in both of their lives' had never really been the same since then; not only with Beth having a mechanical eye, but the quake also harmed Nicholas in ways that the Capitol could not repair, no matter how technologically advanced they were. During it, a wooden plank from the ceiling of their roof collapsed, hitting him square in the head and causing permanent damage. Not that that affected him too badly. He wouldn't need extravagant speaking skills to kill…

"Ladies' and gentlemen, I believe this is it?" The blue skinned woman stepped up to the microphone, so close to it she could have very swallowed it.

"I have no doubt that it will be covered in red lipstick by the time she's done speaking," Nicholas spoke under his breath, nudging Beth forward as the line leading to the Capitol worker taking names moved faster.

"Arm, please?" The man spoke in a robotic voice, his white uniform and helmet with a black visor covering his eyes shimmering like ice under the rays of sun. Beth stuck her arm out, palm up, and he pressed a small machine against it, just above her wrist. It buzzed as a microscopic needle jetted out and pierced her skin, causing her to flinch slightly. She turned towards her brother before heading over to join the other girls in the fourteen year old section.

"You behave, Nicky. No joking around, this is serious."

The older boy merely waved his hand at his little sister, a ghost of a small grin on his face.

"This is our fighter's year, right? It's time a Shocker stepped into the spotlight."

"Arm, please?"

She grasped his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as if to say "thank you" before marching over to where she was supposed to stand and endure the long speech they all knew the Capitol woman was bound to give.

"Let me begin by saying I am honored to be here today, representing our wonderfully grand Capitol," her voice was shrill, irritable, and Beth was almost tempted to cover her ears and drone her out. But she was sure the security regiment standing at the sides of the groups would find that move highly disrespectful. "My name is Aquanette von Sprinkles."

That hopefully wasn't meant to be taken as a serious moment. Little eruptions of laughter and sputtering giggles resounded through every group, several people having to cover their mouths with their hands to control it.

The blue skinned woman, Aquanette, just watched everyone with disdain, clearing her throat rather loudly, and since she was right up against the microphone, a loud screech was emitted from it, sending chills down Beth's spine. That quieted the teenagers really fast.

"Now then, that's all settled, I should tell you all why I am here. But first, how about a video made by our truly, the President."

Aquanette clapped her glittery hands twice, shaking some of the silver free from her skin, and the giant spotlights shut off as the hum of a projection screen lowering filled the quiet.

"_Everyone, one and all, every girl and every boy, I welcome you all to the return of the Hunger Games!" _

It was the President's voice. Beth and Nicholas remember far too well standing there as the broadcast went on, unable to believe what was going on as their mother went in to hysterics before them. It was the day that Beth decided no matter what, if she wasn't chosen during the Reaping, she would volunteer; she was strong enough. Had Nicholas not been injured, he would have been the one helping support the family, but since he was, Beth took it in to her own hands to work at becoming stronger in order to help both him and their mother. She held no ill feelings towards him whatsoever; there was nothing he could have done to change to course of fate. They were all she had, all she trusted in this world, and she would do whatever she could to help them.

"_As I am certain you all heard in my most recent broadcast sent out around Panem, your dear Mockingjay has passed. And I am just as certain that you all miss her dearly, but do not fret! I have a solution that will help all of you…cope." _

With the end of her little speech, an image of Katniss appeared on the screen. It was of her during the Reaping of the 74th Hunger Games whenever her little sister, Prim, was chosen, and she volunteered. Effie Trinket was holding out her hand to her to assist her up the steps and on to the stage.

"_Tell us your name."_

"_Katniss Everdeen."_

The next images were some that Beth decided she could have gone without seeing. Katniss surrounding a small girl's dead body with white flowers; the girl's, she learned from another girl behind her, name was Rue. And then the last one to flash up was not a picture, but an actual clip from the Games. Katniss and her District Partner, Peeta Mellark, were both standing on the Cornucopia, Peeta held in a choke hold by the District Two male, Cato. Katniss had her bow set, arrow aimed straight at Cato's head, whenever Peeta made a small motion with his hand, his fingers; he was pointing at the hand Cato was using to hold him against himself. She lowered her arrow and fired, hitting him straight in the hand, which caused him to let go of the boy and ultimately fall to his death, being clawed and shredded by a pack of beastly mutt mutations at the bottom.

"Well, that's a lovely way to go down, Two," Beth muttered.

"_How am I going to help you all with coping? Well, since Katniss was so adamant about participating in the Games, and since she sadly brought them to a halt for sixty long years, we at the Capitol, myself mainly, have decided to gift you lovely individuals with the return of the Hunger Games! However, this isn't the Hunger Games you have heard stories about. There is a minor twist involved with them."_

An audible intake of breath was heard, and then all was silent as everyone held their breath.

"_Every boy and every girl's name between the ages of twelve and eighteen shall not have their name entered once every year, but a total of twelve. That's correct. Your name, your brother's, your sister's, everybody's name is in for the drawing twelve times. Seems appropriate, seeing as how the hero_ _was from District Twelve. So, with that in mind, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." _

The screen went black, just as the televisions had, but then Aquanette clapped again, the lights sparked back to life, and the screen disappeared.

"I just love that part," she exclaimed giddily, dabbing a neon colored handkerchief under her heavily made up eyes. "Now, shall we begin?" She tottered over to a large glass sphere packed full of small white slips and thrust her hand in, mixing them all around with her bony fingers.

"Ladies' first, no?" She mumbled, grinning like a mad woman. She then plucked out a sheet, unfolded it, and…

"Milv—,"

"I volunteer!"

Everyone turned to stare at her, little Beth Shocker, the pistol of District Two.

"Well, well, we didn't even get the name out. Any ways, come along dear, come on," she cooed and urged Beth forward, holding out her hand a lot like how Effie did with Katniss.

"Would you tell us your name, love?" Aquanette held the microphone right up to her mouth, and Beth had to fight the laughter. Sure enough, as Nicky had said, red lipstick covered one side of it.

"Beth Shocker."

"Beth Shocker. What an electrifying last name!" She was the only one who laughed at her joke. "And was there any reason you volunteered, Beth?"

She scanned the crowd, raking over the sixteen year old section of the boys' until she spotted him. He was in the middle, eyes wide, but with a wide, proud smile on his face.

_That's my sister, _she saw him mouth.

"A better life for my family, that's probably why. I'll win it for them."

"Alright, very well. I am sure you will try. Now, on to our boys?"

She repeated the same actions over to another glass sphere, but for some reason didn't take as long to retrieve a name.

"Nicholas Shocker!"

Her heart felt like it stopped, and breathing became something she no longer controlled.

_No! _She screamed over and over in her mind, but could not manage to form the words. _Please, someone, _anyone_, volunteer for him!_

Everyone was silent as Aquanette urged him up on stage. No one would volunteer for Nicholas. It was inevitable, it seemed. Beth and Nicholas Shocker, sister and brother, the only one in the world they had to trust, was to be put in an arena and fight to the death…against each other.


	3. 3: Trip to the Capitol

***Disclaimer: I think you all have got this figured out by now, but I am taking no chances with this meanie again. So, we don't own The Hunger Games. It's all owned by Suzanne Collins.**

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It was hard to believe that the Reaping had occurred only an hour ago. It was even harder to believe that they had both said goodbye to their families, not entirely too sure they'd see their faces' again.

Erin had remained unnervingly quiet through the departure from their District, District 3, opting to watch out the small window idly as the world he had known was slowly falling from under him. The girl that had been reaped with him, Riley, he believed her name was, sat in a sort of ball in her seat, watching the Avox as they silently skulked about the train car, occasionally holding trays of different things before the younger Tribute, to which she declined politely. She would glance in his direction every once in a while, and he had come to the conclusion that she probably wished to say something to him, but didn't have the courage to.

"How old are you?"

The sound of his voice breaking the quiet pulled Riley out of her reverie, and she whipped her head to look at him, her blonde curls sticking slightly to her face. Her olive green eyes were wide, and she looked startled. Erin decided that she reminded him of a bunny; cute and little, with probable hidden violence.

"What?" Her voice was a little timid, which he found surprising, remembering how bubbly and excited she was during the Reaping. Now she seemed on the defensive, not that he couldn't say he was too, but they may as well not be plotting enemies just yet.

"I asked, how old are you?"

"I'm fourteen," she spoke with more confidence this time around, tilting her chin up in a move that seethed with defiance. This girl was going to be a fighter.

Erin found he was smiling at her attitude. She reminded him quite a bit of his youngest sister, Lucy.

"You're so young," he murmured, not really meaning for her to hear it, but it seemed as though the bunny girl had better hearing than he could have assumed.

"It doesn't make me any less tough!"

Erin held his hands up in mock-surrender, chuckling all the while.

"Whoa there, I never said that."

Riley snuggled further back into her seat, crossing her thin arms over her chest with a scowl set on her face, but Erin could see the tell-tell signs of a smile forming.

"So, Ms.—,"

"Riley," she interjected. So his guess _was _correct.

"Riley. Either you have multiple personalities, or you're already singling me out as your number one enemy?" He ended it as a question, not wanting to seem accusatory towards her.

The small blonde smiled widely at him, showing off her pearly little teeth.

"Nope, neither! I just…I…," Riley trailed off, letting her wide eyes wander back over to the small window as everything still passed by them in a blur. She looked slightly lost in thought.

"You just…what, Riley?"

"I guess I'm just a little nervous. I wanted to be a part of the Games, ever since I was little. I've read everything I could about them, and just thought the whole idea of them kind of sounded exciting. Kind of like a _giant _adrenaline rush, you know?

You see, I've kind of got a dream about how I'll be in the Games."

"And how do you see yourself?" Erin would be lying if he said he wasn't thoroughly intrigued by the depth this child possessed. Such passion, such life…and now it was all potentially at risk. Really, it wasn't fair to her.

"I see myself as being the legacy of Katniss Everdeen. You've heard of her, right?" Erin nodded in response. "I want to be, not really another _Katniss,_ but more than a Tribute. I want to be someone who will make a difference in the scheme of things."

Erin took a moment to let her words absorb, nodding absentmindedly. It took him a moment to realize the girl was speaking again, her mouth moving at the speed of light, so he figured she must be doing some form of interrogation on him.

"Are you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to repeat one of those questions," he laughed.

Riley laughed too, a very joyous sound. A sound that would be stolen from so many in this arena…

"Are you going to ally with anyone?" Her wide eyes held a spark of curiosity as his thoughts drifted to someone else; a very special someone else.

"I've got some big plans to carry out the moment we step foot in that arena," he said, his voice dripping with a finality that made Riley and him shiver.

"We will be arriving at the Capitol in five minutes, young ones!" their Capitol advisor, who they could not remember the name of for the life of them, informed them. She tottered into their car in her heels that resembled springs, perched herself regally on one of the velvet spiral chairs and holding her arms open, motioning the two of them to come over to her.

They did so, Riley hopping right up beside her, but Erin stayed a small distance away, not wanting her to touch him. She did not seem affected by his actions, however, and for that he felt a small bit of relief.

"So, children, once we get there, quite a bit will be happening."

She looked up at Riley, reaching a glittery gold hand up and brushing her bangs back, tucking them behind her ear, some of the sparkles falling free from her, presumably tan skin and onto the silver and red carpet.

"I know!" Riley exclaimed, all of her child like, carefree and happy whims revealing themselves in her voice. It made Erin's stomach turn; she made him think so much of Lucy. What if it had of been her standing here instead of Riley?

A clapping of metal against wall shocked them all, and they turned to find one of the female Avox standing in the mechanical door frame, holding a small slip of paper in her deep red hand. She pointed to the Capitol woman, beckoning her forward with one long index finger.

"Hold that thought, babies'."

She went to the Avox, who handed her the paper. The glittery woman skimmed over it quickly, cast a glance back at Erin and Riley, and then made a mad dash through the door, the Avox hot on her heels.

"Well, I wonder what that was all about."

Riley shrugged and began walking along the patterns on the carpet, giggling quietly to herself.

She did that for quite some time, or so it seemed that when she decided to speak again, it shocked Erin.

"You know, you've asked me a pretty big question about myself—,"

"As have you about me," he reminded her.

She nodded as if remembering suddenly, but stopped in her track, staring directly at him. Her eyes weren't as wide anymore, but more narrowed, serious.

"I'm sure your parents aren't as hyped about you being here as you are, are they?" He wasn't entirely sure why he was asking her such a question, but the seriousness in her expression unnerved him.

"My mom certainly isn't. She and Taylor, that's my baby sister, were hoping someone would volunteer for me."

"So, your dad then. What about him?"

"My dad isn't alive anymore. He died in a fire in the square," her voice dropped to almost a whisper, and Erin could see the evident sadness in her eyes as she spoke.

"Oh," he hated how he couldn't think of anything else to say, but what could he say?

"I would have fought them if they volunteered for me. I would've gotten here one way or another," her smile returned, almost as though it had never left, and she went back to walking the patterns on the floor.

Erin was bemused by this young girl; bemused, but he admired her strength. She seemed to have a will beyond her years. And his thoughts went to his own family; to Lucy, who he saw so much in Riley, to Caleb, to Emilie and Auston, to his mom and dad…he hoped so much to see them all again, and soon. He regretted how short their goodbyes were, but at least he couldn't blame himself for that; the Capitol officials were pretty antsy to get them out of there and aboard the bullet train.

And for the third time in the past twenty minutes, his thoughts were interrupted.

The golden woman reappeared with a false smile plastered to her hot pink lips.

"We're here, children," she informed them, voice a little too somber, a little too _devious _for them to feel comfortable.

Riley scampered up into her chair and peered out of the little window, practically pressing her face right against the glass. She was greeted by the high, metallic silver buildings, bright, outlandish colors, and buzzing aircrafts that made up the existence of the Capitol.


	4. 4: Playing dress up

*Disclaimer: The Hunger Games = **NOT OWNED BY OKKI! **Is that understandable enough, or should I make them a firework show too?

Either way, I don't remember who submitted him (So sorry!), but I love James to pieces! I am so going to enjoy writing this guy ;)

Esmé's a blast and a half to write too! Thank you all very much!

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"**Dear, I'm going to have to ask you to stay still."**

"**I don't want you touching me."**

Esmé sat on the metal bed that resembled a hospital cot, listening to the pleas and arguing going on between one of the stylists and her District partner, James. She supposed he was alright, under his entire tough exterior, but she wasn't really sure about trying to get under that or not.

"Esmé Belle?"

She hopped lightly of off the bed, portraying all the grace in world, and calmly walked up to the man who called for her.

His skin was a pale green, and he had blue swirls tracing his cheekbones from the corner of his eyes, which were a shocking shade of purple.

"Well, aren't you pretty? We're going to have a lot of fun, my love," He had a typical Capitol accent; boisterous in tone as he over enunciated every word. His green lips quirked into a grin as his eyes roamed over her face, nodding in approval. "Come with Aldrin, doll." He offered her a hand, which she took hold of obligingly.

Aldrin turned in an almost arabesque type of movement with her still in tow close behind him and began down a long, twisting hallway with high black walls decorated with colorful images. Towards the end, he stopped abruptly in front of an automatic door, transparent red in color with little green stars embedded under the surface.

"We will be in here, if you could go have a seat in that chair," he pointed to a red leather armchair in the corner. "I'll be right back. I just have to hunt down my staff. Alright, love?" She only nodded as he tapped her between her shoulder blades three times, as if cueing her to go on in there.

However, she didn't obey entirely, for once she saw him turn, she poked her head out of the doors and watched him race down the rest of the hallway, occasionally stopping at random doors and asking someone about something.

"You're pretty nosy, aren't you?"

Esmé snapped her head to the side, shocked to hear someone speaking to her, until she saw who it was.

James Rolin stood about two feet from the door she was hanging out of, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. His face looked sour, as though he was completely displeased with what was going on.

_Figures, since he was complaining the whole time, _she thought, retreating back through the door.

James easily covered the distance between himself and the closing doors, holding it open with one hand as he slid in as well, moving his appendage before the door could close with a loud _click._

The little blonde stomped her foot dramatically, leaving an imprint in the overly plush neon colored carpet. Her arms unconsciously crossed her chest, and she lifted her chin in mock defiance.

"Hey, whatever, kid. It's not like I care what you do," James remarked, examining his manicured hand with complete distaste.

"I'm not a kid!" Esmé fired back at him, arms uncrossing, little fists furled at her sides. Her blue eyes were like ice, visually sparring with his hardened metal grey ones. "I'll have you know, _sir,_ I am fifteen, soon to be sixteen. Hardly "kid" material, if you ask me." She huffed indignantly.

James couldn't fight the chuckle that escaped him as he shook his head slowly, training his gaze on the floor.

"You're sure a spitfire thing, aren't you?" He asked it more of a question to himself as if he was trying to figure out the young prima-donna standing before him. "Come here." He beckoned her with one long finger, eyes dark and mischievous.

To her, it looked as though this guy was challenging her to fall for something she was nowhere close to being inexperienced with; seduction. She had to give him props though. If he tried this move on some of the weaker at the knees girls, he could potentially make it far in these Games. But with her, he didn't stand a chance. She'd make sure to make him fall to his knees first.

"Actually," she flitted over to the chair that Aldrin had instructed her to be seated in in the first place. "I'm thinking this looks a lot more appealing than you do." She winked quickly, flashing her trademark bright smile before promptly throwing herself into the chair, sighing a little too loud and crossing her legs.

"You definitely belong here," James muttered.

"Why's that?" She leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palms of her hands, cocking her head to the side.

With a roll of his eyes, James turned the customary stone cold glare back on the girl, all previous fun behavior long forgotten.

"You're just as dramatic as they are. You make a big deal out of _everything._"

"I do not!" Her arms flew up, failing to back up her side of the argument.

"Hm…whatever."

Both were so absorbed in their latest conflict that they didn't hear the mechanical sliding of the doors opening.

"Baby doll, I'm ba…where did you come from?"

James turned, one swift motion, now face to face with the green man, Aldrin.

"Damn and I thought my _stylist _was crazy looking," James spoke with utmost control, but his face belied his voice. He looked as though he could burst at the seams from held in laughter.

Aldrin's eyes, which looked more of a shade of blackberry than purple now, widened comically as he spluttered, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"I…why you little…who…"

James held a hand up, silencing Aldrin for a moment.

"Save it. I don't care what you Capitol freaks have to say," with that, he stormed out of the small room, not bothering to say anything else to his District partner.

"I have a feeling he's not about to ally with me," Esmé mumbled, looking down at her pale hands.

Aldrin strode over to her, sliding his minty fingers under her chin, coaxing her head up to look at him.

"You're beautiful, he's brooding and scary and not too nice," he sounded injured, as though James's words had actually physically struck him. "Point is, you'll have no trouble getting an ally with a face like this," He winked at her before holding a pencil thin finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone what I say to you, though."

"Why?"

"Because they might try and take you away from me. And you're mine!" He laughed and wrapped his slender arms around her shoulder, pushing her forward until she stood to avoid meeting the floor face-first. "Now, how about we start dolling you up?"

"Let's go!" She pointed to the door, holding her dress outwards with her other hand as though she was preparing to curtsey. "Besides, this thing is _so_ out of style."

"Ooh, it'll be like playing dress up with a life size doll!" Aldrin squealed excitedly, hastily moving the tall blonde towards to door with him.

The light caught something shimmery on her skin, and they stopped abruptly. Aldrin spinning her around and gripping her shoulders tightly.

Esmé squirmed slightly under his hold, trying to get him to let up, until he noticed what he was staring at; her neck.

"You like my necklace?"

Aldrin's eyes were wide with admiration.

"It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"It's my older sister's. I wanted to keep her close to me," her voice was shockingly somber, a complete three-sixty from her normal dramatized, arrogant way of speaking. But, as quickly as it came on, it was gone in the blink of an eye. ""Your doll awaits you, sir."

Aldrin came to from his almost hypnotized state of euphoria, grinning wildly at the girl before him.

"I'm so glad I'm paired up with you. What do you think about flowers?"

"Love them!"

"Great!" He looped one of his arms through hers and took off in a full sprint down the hallway in the direction she had seen him disappear a while ago.

Once the pair was out of sight, from around the corner, the brooding, temperamental young man stepped out into the middle of the hall, face set with a strict grimace.

"Unbelievable."

"There you are!"

James went wide eyed, refusing to turn and look at the person he cursed with everything in him.

"Oh, look. The circus leader came back," his voice was almost emotionless, but had an undertone of malice in it as his teeth ground together.

"You're so silly, dear. Now, come on, we've got a lot of work to do on you."

"Touch me and we'll see who needs a lot of work done."

The Capitol stylist laughed heartily, snaking their hand along his forearm.

"There you go with that joking again! You'll have to save some of that wit for the interview, babe. You can't get sponsors until the camera is on you."


	5. 5: Sparking Competition

Hey, looks who's back!

So, after my long, inexcusable absence, I have officially returned. And I would like to say how sorry I am for neglecting this story for so long, but after it had been taken down, I had almost forgotten about it D: That, and I've been a sick Okki, which is never fun :(

But then my one of my lovely readers' kept reminding me about it, thankfully, and re-sparked my motivation to re-upload and continue writing. So, thank you very much, **Alexandria Forever 21** ^_^ You have possibly been our most enthusiastic reader, and a true delight to listen to.

So, here's the long awaited District 5 chariot rides. **blueyoshguy**, I tried **so** hard to get Fallone as right as I could. I am truly sorry if you're not pleased with him, and if you see anything you want to correct, please tell me!

***Disclaimer: **We do not own _The Hunger Games_, or anything in association with it. It all belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. Anything seen in relation to the original story, all credit goes to her!

* * *

These two got along great, in the stylists opinion.

Vallery and Fallone were both insanely friendly and openly truthful, hitting off with the Capitol workers from the moment they stepped in the doors.

They were both adorable too, as the stylists had pointed out. Young, youthful, yet modest, completely oblivious to the way they were about to turn the heads of the Capitol in a few short minutes.

The girls honey blonde locks were curled and piled precariously on top of her head with a shimmering head piece perched in the center of them. Transparent cords had also been weaved throughout the curls, a supply of faux electric blue power surges racing through them. A silvery dress that flowed around her complimented everything perfectly and a little pampering from her stylist did wonders to her already pretty looks. She was amazed with what a little blue powder could do to a person's skin under the torch light.

Fallone had hair to his chin, but the stylists didn't want the same-old, same-old with making both Tributes exactly alike with these two; they're personalities were their own, and therefore they each needed a different style to mimic them.

"I think we got him spot on," one of the stylists whispered behind her hand, batting her long, green eyelashes, the gold tips of them brushing her cheekbones each time her eyes closed. The other woman nodded vigorously as she watched Fallone with teary eyes.

They had constructed a band to wrap around his head, neck, and cross down over his chest with the same faux electric surges racing through it, but instead of blue, they were gold, matching easily with his hair, and as for his clothing, it was indeed as loose and flowed as easily as Vallery's, but they didn't stick with a traditional style for the adorable boy.

"Well, let's get you two up there."

Vallery's stylist gripped her hands strongly while guiding her to the chariot steps, helping her hold her dress by the train as she settled herself against the side of it.

A startled gasp behind her turned both girls' attention to another one of the Districts' chariots, but it wasn't issued for either of their Tributes.

That was when they saw him.

Gold lighting racing against his bronzed skin, making him seem like he was alive with light, while shimmery materials of pale blues and bronze settled gently around him, making it hard to see the pants they actually allowed him to wear (_it's a good thing, dear, _they had informed.) To simply put it, he was a sight to behold.

"You're absolutely beautiful!" His stylist gushed, crushing him in a bone on bone hug, the fact that her arms were like spindly spider legs not helping the comfort fact one bit.

He blushed a little, prying one arm free to awkwardly pat the lovely ebony woman, who pushed him back to examine him at arm's length. Her gold lashes framed her dark eyes, making them stand out startlingly in the light the torches cast around them, as well as the gold choker that rest around her neck. Fallone found his attention slipping until she shook him gently.

"Why are we just standing here?" She laughed, the sound humorless, all the while shoving him forward forcefully. The gesture was one out of being rushed, being pressed for time, but Fallone immediately felt unsteady, as though his left side suddenly was weighing him down. He quickly shifted over to his right foot, bouncing on it-barely perceptible to those around him-to even out his weight. The feeling quickly passed, and he sighed in relief and gripped the carriage handles, hoisting himself up to stand beside the glowing Vallery.

"Well, doesn't someone look handsome?"

Fallone's hazel eyes shifted over to the girl beside him. She was all arrogance and radiance, a deadly combination when it came to physical appearance, her face alight with unabashed eagerness.

He only nodded tersely, not wanting her to remain speaking on that train of thought. He wasn't trying to be rude, but even with his friendly personality, he knew that distractions could cost him dearly out there…

"I guess we never really got the chance to talk, huh?" He chortled, pressing a hand to the flimsy material wrapping around his abdomen, clutching his fingers in it tightly.

* * *

_"Hi."_

_Vallery tore her gaze from the window, blue eyes wide and dancing with curiosity. A smile bright enough to put the sun streaming into the compartment to shame spread over her pretty face as she approached the boy standing in the doorway. _

_She hadn't fully paid attention to him during the Reaping, but now she was shamelessly overjoyed she got him to herself for a little while. _

_He was handsome, there was no doubting it. All gold, ruffled hair framing an angled face and sharp eyes, which were all but that in their expression. He seemed to be the epitome of an angelic figure, from his lightly tanned visage to his warm looks and happy personality. _

_"Hi there, handsome." She was always a bit of a flirt._

_Fallone visibly stumbled at her response. _That _was one he couldn't have expected, but he recovered quickly, jutting a generous hand towards her. She gripped it in hers, the contact of warm skin taking them from a sense of reality, if only for a moment._

_But she pulled them out of that pleasurable bliss in a moment deemed too soon when a strong clearing of someone's throat snapped them back to the present situation. _

_"It's good to see that you all are at least getting along," the Capitol official blinked rapidly as he spoke, brushing a long fingered hand through his messy black locks. He seemed to have a nervous twitch and was constantly fidgeting with his hands, flicking his fingers, but they had heard stories that all Capitol resident's were adrenaline junkies, hyping themselves up on special spirits and pills created within the heart of the Capitol. "But we need to discuss things, together. You all will have plenty of..._alone time _in the hotel room." He winked somehow between his blinks before ushering them with a quick wave of his hand, disappearing once more through a long tunnel behind where Fallone stood, now fully confused. _

_Vallery broke his stupor, tracing her hand down his bicep lightly. _

_"He's right. We'll talk later." A wink, another flirty smile, and she was gone, following the jittery man. _

_Fallone could only place his hand against his forehead and breathe deeply in hopes of collecting his thoughts before he joined them. Seriously, he could not afford distractions now._

* * *

"I guess we didn't, but now's not the time for it either." To back up her words, the chariot lurched forward, causing her to stumble. Fallone's hand shot out automatically, wrapping around her forearm to steady her, to which she flashed him a grateful smile before fumbling around with her hair. "Thanks," she mumbled, looking away from him.

Faces' ablaze with an endearing shade of pink, they looked up towards the cheering crowd, who pumped their fists in the air and screamed out compliments to their favorite Districts.

Fallone caught sight of the District before him, District 4. A beautiful, tall, blonde girl who was adorned in layers of pink silk fashioned to look like roses, and a broad, brooding guy, who from time to time would glare at the girl next to him as she waved and blew kisses to her new adoring fans.

_They love them,_ he thought, analyzing how different they were, yet the crowd went wild until the moment their chariot disappeared from his line of sight and his and Vallery's became the focus.

Gasps could be heard resonating around the stands as the people took in the two teenagers they were watching. The attention was almost electrifying feeling, as though if it were visible, it would resemble the faux sparks racing against their gold heads and skin.

And they showed themselves off perfectly.

Vallery whipped her head from side to side in a vain attempt to reach the eyes of every individual, waving her hands frantically in the air to them.

So Fallone followed. He smiled, the surges crossing his face shining off his teeth, creating little gleams that seemed like sparkles. It was unintentional, but when his stylist caught sight of that, she sighed dreamily while giving him a shaky thumbs up.

"Would you just look at this District, ladies' and gentlemen? They are positively bringing down the competition with a spark!" Apollo Flickerman's-Caesar Flickerman's son-voice boomed out loudly. He had the same cocky undertone his father had had all those years ago, but somehow he was more real, as though the Capitol hadn't sunk their claws into him fully. Yet.

A final wave, a flick of perfectly curled hair, and he thought, _here comes the interviews._

But then he felt a warm pair of lips press to his feverish face, right against his jaw, which somehow managed to skyrocket in temperature and red coloring, and the crowd went absolutely insane, screaming and whooping in excitement.

"For the sponsors, handsome," she whispered quietly, interlacing her fingers with trembling ones. "Maybe."

* * *

**Well, I can't say I'm too satisfied with the ending, or really this chapter. I've been out of the swing of things, and it was difficult to try to get back into it. I honestly deleted this several times before I came up with some sort of acceptable chapter, which is this. I also scanned it for mistakes, but me being me, and a person who is easily distracted, I more than likely missed some. I'm sorry if I did.**

**Nonetheless, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed! **

**Thank you to each of my readers'! I love you guys dearly :D **


	6. 6: Interviewers Anonymous

Soooo, here's two characters entirely unknown to everyone. Amaro and Alexandria/Vespa were both last minute Tributes because we couldn't find the submitter's of the previous Tributes (if you were one of the owners of a D6 Tribute, please do tell me!)

So, a big thanks to **blueyoshguy **for Alexandria (or Vespa.) You are turning out to be one awesome bundle :)

*Disclaimer: We do not own _The Hunger Games_. It belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins!

* * *

Lights blazing. Camera's rolling-make sure to smile, dear. The walk up to the stage was unnerving.

"Tell me something admirable about you, Amaro." Amaro squinted against the bright spotlights as Apollo kept shoving the microphone down his throat. He none to nicely wrapped his hand around the interviewer's wrist and shoved it away from him.

"I'm from District 6, what could be admirable about me?" he quipped, crossing his arms over his chest, creating ripples of wrinkles in the soft material. Somewhere in the crowd, his stylist was having a heart attack. But the rest of the crowd responded delightfully to his bad boy attitude, laughing when he threw a sarcastic comment while the girls swooned over his edgy looks.

Apollo cleared his throat, clearly annoyed with the stubbornness he was being presented with. "Okay then," he smiled brightly, slicking one dark hand across his shiny purple curls. "How about what you plan on doing once you get in the arena, son?"

The boy only quirked a now perfectly groomed pale eyebrow, a scowl settling over his pale face. "Why the hell would I tell you all what I'm going to do?" his voice remained even, although the collective gasps that traveled around the audience made it seem like he yelled it into the microphone, which was tempting. That or shoving it so far down Apollo's throat that he buzzed every time he spoke. Either one sounded pretty good. His narrowed silver eyes flickered everywhere, glinting dangerously. He caught sight of his District partner standing behind the heavy mauve curtain blocking the rest of the Tributes from the audience's line-of-sight. She was a pretty thing; a bit oddly shaped, but still, he had to admit it. She was just definitely not the type to go after. He learned the hard way that she was strong, and had a temper.

* * *

_"What are you looking at?" _

_It took Amaro a second to figure out he was actually staring at the girl standing beside him. He shook his head furiously. There was _no way_ he was getting caught up in this kind of thing now. _

_Her eyebrows furrowed, creasing her baby blues in a way he could only figure to be enticing. _

_"Well?"_

_"Not you, if that's what you're thinking," he remarked lamely, mentally berating himself for not being able to come up with anything better. _

_Vespa scoffed. "Yeah, it sure didn't seem like that _at all_," her voice was dipped in heavy sarcasm. Crossing her arms under her chest, she returned to looking at the audience that was practically falling from the stands in a desperate attempt to be closer to the beautiful Tributes being whisked underneath their pompous noses. The gold spiral wrapping around her head slipped down, covering her eyes. "Stupid, worthless Capitol and their huge headpieces," grumbling, she almost ripped it from her hair until a not-so-gentle smack was received on her back. _

_"Don't mess up your hair, dear. We worked so hard," the sugar plum fairy man with purple skin swatted her hands away from the mess of dark brown that now resembled a nest of burs. She groaned in resignation, holding up her hands in mock surrender. _

_"There, happy? I'm not touching my hair."_

_He smiled sickeningly before trotting off somewhere else besides with them, to the pair's relief. _

_"At least, I wasn't then," with a devious smirk, she dragged her slender fingers through the tangles, managing to pry her bangs loose. They hung weirdly over her forehead, curled upwards from the amount of products that had been slapped into them. _

_"Here, let me help you at least," Amaro raised his hand up to her head, but was met with a bone crushing grip instead. _

_"Let's get one thing straight. First off, you don't touch me." He opened his mouth to retort, but she merely tightened her hold on his now reddening fingers. "Second, I don't care how bad you think you are. You're nothing but a scared little boy that's only serving to be in my way." With those rather harsh words, she turned on her heel and promptly stormed off in the direction of their Chariot. _

_Amaro cradled his crippled hand to his chest while watching her retreating form with focused admiration._

* * *

She locked eyes with him, hers dancing with an unexplained fire while he was certain he was provoking her bad mood with his no doubt cocky smirk.

_Keep it up, crazy. It's your funeral you're going to cause._

"Well then, Amaro. It seems to me like you're the private type, am I correct?"

He turned a lazy, lopsided grin to Apollo once more and then stood, to everyone's surprise, and pranced off stage. "Nope, I just don't like you!" He called over his shoulder.

Vespa's time on stage wasn't nearly as unpleasant for Apollo as the time with Amaro had been, but if he were to decide to interview either of them again or go swimming with a bunch of mutated sharks, he'd probably choose the swim.

"So, Alexandria-,

"My name's Vespa."

"Vespa? Ah, what a…creative name," he tripped over his words, shocked at her very rude outburst. Did they teach these kids no manners back home? She inclined her head as if to say 'I know.' "Okay, Vespa, what a zing of a name she has, am I right folks?" The audience cheered and clapped at the comment, but she remained rather stoic. "What made you decide to volunteer for the Games?"

Her mind flew back to a little corner she had locked everything up in after the tragedy had occurred.

* * *

_"Mom? Mom! No, no, please don't hurt her!"_

_"Is dad going to be okay?" _No, of course not_, her bitter thoughts reminded her. He'd never be okay again._

* * *

"Vespa?"

"To prove I'm not weak," her voice was resolute, hands furling into tight fists. "I wanted to show the world, my family, that I'm _not _weak! And," she twisted her torso around, now facing the curtain she had been standing behind minutes ago. The one where a now startled looking silver eyed boy stood, squirming under her brazen glare. "To take down wimps like him," the even tone was followed by her finger pointing him square in the chest.

A collective sharp intake of breath resonated through the tightly packed crowd, as well as the loud screech coming from the microphone that had been in Apollo's grasp seconds before. He sat there, still as a statue, eyes wide and mouth agape while his mind processed what she had just said. Fighting to regain some form of a professional composure, he rubbed his hands vigorously down his jacket, brushing away dust that wasn't there, and cleared his throat obnoxiously.

"Yes, well, very well then. How about we bring District Seven out then?" His voice squeaked at the end of his sentence.

Amaro knew one thing at that moment. One, beauty kills, and two…he had her pegged completely wrong. She was determined to take him out, just not in the way he had been attempting to with her.

* * *

Oh dear. Amaro has dug himself into a fine hole there, it seems.

I have completely neglected this story! And I honestly didn't mean to.

So, another round of applause for our fiesty Latin wasp (Vespa.) She'll be a handul later on. Also, yes...the chapters _are _short right now. And this one hurrrr? It's pitifully short. But when the Games actually start, prepare for ones the size of books that you could squash small children with. But never do that, because that is frowned upon.

:(...see?

-Okki


	7. 7: The Thief and the Manipulator

**Disclaimer: **We don't own The Hunger Games. It all belongs to the amazing Suzanne Collins!

* * *

"You two, you were just wonderful!"

Yuuki and Enide watched their Capitol representative while she balanced a colorful cocktail between her index and middle fingers', taking occasional sips from it. Yuuki's fingers were in a steeple, the tips of them pressed under his chin, elbows resting on his thighs. He had long ago stripped himself of the offensive material they had stuffed him in for the interview, donning his usual black pants and shirt. Enide sat off to the side, cross-legged in one of the plush chairs next to a window, going back to looking out to the bright lights of the city below.

The woman's bright red lips turned down in a deep frown at the ignorance towards her, and she slammed her glass down on the table, the drink sloshing out over the brim. Both of their heads snapped towards her, regarding the fowl grimace on her face.

"Something wrong?" Yuuki's question held an undetermined amount of amusement at her displeasure with them, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"No, not really," she sighed and picked up the almost empty glass once more, nursing the remaining contents. "I just don't get how you kids can be so solemn. This is an exciting night!"

Enide scoffed. "We're not all into the festivity of this." She went back to her absentminded sight-seeing. Yuuki nodded his agreement.

"Oh, come now!" She edged around the large table and curved chairs, bouncing over to where the young girl was seated. Wrapping a thin arm around her shoulders, she spun her around to fully face the window. "Look at all of this! It's all for you!" She gestured her hand to the grandiose spectacle occurring just outside of the hotel. Bright strobe lights buzzed and flickered over the pulsing crowd while balloons and streams of spraying alcohol flew through the air. It was messy, crazy, and it disgusted her to no ends.

An irritated grunt sounded in Enide's throat.

Giving up on the young girl, the woman waltzed her way back to where Yuuki was, his chin still balanced on his fingertips.

"And you," she knocked his hands out the way, startling him. His wide midnight eyes met her crazed ochre ones. "Look at you! So handsome; you'll have the Capitol sponsors eating out of the palm of your hand, babe." She brought her hand up to the side of his face, patting his cheek affectionately. "But, if you all insist, I'll be on my way then. If you want to come have fun instead of hiding in here like two little hermits, you know where to find me!"

Once the door shut, the loud click of the lock signifying her total exit, Yuuki sighed, slumping over until his torso rested against his legs, long fingers brushing the carpet.

"I thought she'd never leave us alone," he grumbled, voice muffled.

Enide began to nod, but then realized he couldn't hear that. "Me too."

His movements were sluggish as he dragged himself back to a proper sitting position, elbows coming to rest on his knees this time. His eyes flickered over to the reserved blonde, measuring her up as a potential enemy. She was small, which could work to her advantage in the arena; the smaller you are the easier hiding places are to find. A groan escaped his lips, and he dragged a hand through his shaggy, jet black locks in frustration.

"Something wrong?" A teasing tilt of her lips when she realized she repeated the retort he had offered their representative, and she unwound herself from the chair she occupied, crossing over to where he was. He glanced up at her with half-lidded eyes. She stuck her hand out to him. "Enide Aloch."

Yuuki smirked. "I'm pretty sure I was already aware of that."

Enide rolled her eyes, but a good-natured grin stretched her lips. "You can't say we met on proper terms." She wiggled her fingers.

He reached out his own hand, gripping her smaller one and shaking it. "Yuuki Noroe."

"I'm thirteen."

"Fifteen."

"Really?" she was surprised. "You look older."

Yuuki merely shrugged. "I've heard that one before."

"I've been told I look ten," she muttered ruefully, taking her hand back from him and crossing her arms. She glared at him when he broke out into hysterics. "It's not funny!" Nose upturned, she sniffed indignantly.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he managed between his chuckles, covering his face with his hand. "Should we continue our game of twenty facts?"

"I thought it was called twenty questions."

"We're not really asking questions, now are we?" he deadpanned. She tapped her chin with her index finger as though thinking it over.

"You make a good point. So, should we?"

"I don't see why not," he answered, tapping the space directly in front of him with the toe of his boot. "Sit."

Enide dropped to the floor, propping her elbows on her folded legs and cupping her chin with her hands.

"You first."

"Alright, how much family do you have back in District Seven?" Yuuki stiffened at her question, and she backpedaled, regretting her words. "Yuuki, it's okay. You don't have to answer-,"

"It's fine," he shook his head, his bangs falling over his eyes. "I have my dad and little brother, Hiro," he smiled fondly at the thought. "He's your age."

"Is he?" A wave of sadness swept her over. Hiro was probably at home, watching everything his brave big brother was doing. Since one of them wouldn't be making it back home to District Seven, possibly even both, it made the thought even worse. She swallowed hard. "I have a little brother, too-Deko. He's seven."

Yuuki only nodded, seeming lost in his own thoughts. The fluorescent lights, added onto the streaming colors reflecting in through the window, illuminated the edges of his angular jaw and glinted off of the silver around his neck. She tilted her head, examining the piece of jewelry. It was a simple silver chain, adorned by an intricately detailed cross with a ruby in the center.

Enide pouted.

"What's the matter, Enide?" Hearing his more jovial voice, she peered up at him. He was back from whatever trance of thought that had held him, half of his face covered by his hands, the tips of his fingers resting just under his almond shaped eyes.

"Nothing," she shook her head and smiled at him. "What's your favorite color?"

"Hm, red," he nodded in affirmation, bringing one hand down to curl around the cross. "What's yours?"

"Green. Hey, we're kind of like Christmas!"

Yuuki rolled his eyes. "So much like a kid."

"You're one to talk! You're only two years older!" she huffed.

"Yeah, and that makes all the difference, little girl," he flippantly remarked. "Just ask your next question."

"I don't like you," Enide joked, fisting her hands at her sides.

"You wouldn't be the first."

"Alright, cool guy. Let's make a deal."

"I'm listening."

Now came the test of her skills in deception.

"When we get in the arena, we'll ally." She sounded certain, her voice unwavering and sure.

Yuuki faltered, not too sure how to take her offer. "Uh, I don't know-,"

"Come on, who can you trust more than your own District partner?" She did have a point, and she seemed sincere about her words. But, Yuuki was, in fact, very good at figuring others out.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal," _What's the problem with a little manipulation, _his inner self smirked while he flashed a genuine smile, stretching out his hands to shake hers once again. "Allies?"

Enide chewed the corner of her lip, fighting a prideful smirk herself. "Allies."

* * *

**A/N: **It seems as though these two have some interesting plans forming. With one being good at thievery, the other at manipulation...what could possibly go wrong?

A big, huge thank you goes out to the submitters for these two; **catz r the all time best **and **Itachi'seyecandy**. I hope you all are seeing this! :) and I hope I did your characters justice.

P.S. I think I've fallen for a fictional character O_o Yuuki is just too great.

See you all in the training room with District Eight!

-Okki


End file.
